


Wish You Were Sober

by catcusxx



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 'Wish you were sober', Aka one (1) boner, Alcohol, Angst, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Get's very mildly horny, Getting Together, I don't have the emotional intelligence to write heavy stuff i stg, I was gonna write smut and for once it didn't happen?, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Requited Love, So there's foreshadowing which doesn't really lead anywhere, at the end, duh - Freeform, i mean mostly, loosley based off conan gray song, obviously, oop spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catcusxx/pseuds/catcusxx
Summary: Oikawa is a mess, a hot (emphasis on hot), smoking mess, and Hajime, as always, is not far behind.This is a matter of correlation, not coincidence and has a great deal to do with the fact that Oikawa tends to get handsy when drunk.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Wish You Were Sober

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this piece of art I found reposted on Instagram from twitter which was in turn inspired by 'Wish You Were Sober' by Conan Grey (which I then listened to on repeat for three days) - I couldn't find it at first but thank you sm to @cinip for sending me the link!!: https://twitter.com/lemonpuree/status/1279842198964625408?s=21

Oikawa was a mess, a hot (emphasis on hot), smoking mess, and Hajime, as always, was not far behind.  
This was a matter of correlation, not coincidence.  
It wasn't that Oikawa couldn't hold his liquor - anyone had to have some tolerance by now - it was just that he drunk so much. Sometimes, after seeing him with a hangover the next day, Hajime wondered why. This wasn't the kind of drunk you got for fun, not when the night almost always ended with blurry vision and a good deal of retching. Not when the morning after only yielded the most blurry of memories, or in some cases, none at all.  
God, he hoped there were none.  
Iwaizumi only really came to parties to keep an eye on his friend. Such a task should turn the night into some benign, repetitive event, except instead his stomach writhed with jealousy and self-pity every time Oikawa found a girl to talk up, and then some sense of anticipation as he walked them home.  
A pitiful kind of anticipation which he hated feeling but was fast becoming accustomed to.  
He knew Oikawa would cling to his arm as they walked, knew that he'd lean close when he spoke and that he would beg him to stay over when they reached his front door.  
And sometimes, sometimes, Oikawa would try kissing him before he fell to sleep.  
It would be a hurried brush of lips, with Hajime would wish that he could lean in for longer than he did, wish he could respond in some meaningful way, but Oikawa's eyes would never focus on him and Hajime was sober enough to know that to Oikawa, he was just a person-shaped blank slate. So Hajime would pull away and walk home savoring the taste of Oikawa on his lips; for now, the tang of alcohol reminded him of his friend, his love, more than anything.  
He wasn't one to dwell on anything, and so for the most part he was Oikawa's friend, his teammate, his wingman. The wingman part never went well, but Hajime figured that at least his reluctance was in character.  
The reluctance, however, was a byproduct of the envy he felt whenever someone approached Oikawa. A kind of anger directed at everything and nothing all at once; he knew that he had no right to dislike his friend's relationship, but that, hard, truth, did nothing to stop the emotions boiling in his stomach.  
Now he'd had a drink or two, enough to be a little tipsy but nothing dramatic, and he was watching Oikawa down a shot halfway across the room, the center of attention as per usual. People around him were cheering, a few matching him drink for drink. Hajime had his arms crossed, his fingers digging into his skin so hard they hurt.  
Tipsy meant he had slightly less self-control than needed, and in a situation like this, where Oikawa had his hand high on a girl's leg and was only a breath away, that was all that was needed for his balance to teeter.  
That wandering hand began to stroke at the skin just under the hem of the girl's skirt, and her hands splayed across his chest. Usually, now they might disappear but the LED-light strips which were laid out around them flickered and changed color and they were still there.  
She'd coaxed him back onto the table now, her hair pulled out of the way over one shoulder and her mouth very firmly on his. Hajime's imagination did the rest; the sound of Oikawa's breath on hers, the feel of his hands on her skin. He wished it were the drink making him feel sick, but no, god no, it was Oikawa.  
It was the lack of Oikawa.  
Sometimes Hajime reminded himself that this girl, a girl who'd met with Oikawa a handful of times, would never know Oikawa as well as he did. Tonight even that thought soured as he wondered if it would be worth it, to trade that stability for a night of the feel of Oikawa's body on his.  
It was not even worth thinking further than that; there was a reason Oikawa's relationships never lasted long, and it wasn't the fault of the girls.  
Someone clapped as the girl's hand slipped under the hem of Oikawa's shirt. Hajime saw Oikawa's jaw slacken, and he pulled the girl into another kiss, whispered something in her ear.  
The girl paused, offered a perplexed smile, and then, miraculously, her eyes found Hajime's across the room. Her mouth, lipstick only slightly smudged, made a little round 'o' of shock, and she looked between them. People began to disperse and she slipped off Oikawa landing neatly on the ground beside him and pulling him up.  
Hajime took an uncertain step backward - though his back was already against the wall - as she towed Oikawa towards them, faintly unsteady in heels. Oikawa stumbled along behind her.  
They'd only been at the party an hour or so - it was one from another school and the girl had probably been the one to invite him (and by extension Hajime) along. Despite it being only half-ten at night, Oikawa was blackout.  
"Here," the girl said, pressing Oikawa's hand into Hajime's as if he knew what to do with it, "he needs to sleep it off."  
"Aren't you going to fuck?" Hajime asked harshly, still holding Oikawa's hand like a fool. Oikawa's other arm was draped around the girl's shoulder, fingers playing with her hair.  
"Hell no. I'm barely tipsy," she said, faint slur in her voice. "It would be taking advantage."  
"You're dating," Hajime said flatly.  
"That's news to me." The girl said, her eyes already scanning the crowd, interest waning. "I have to go find Sakura," she said, "I promised I wouldn't let her hook up with Aoi-chan."  
Hajime nodded as though he knew who they were and she unhooked Oikawa's arm from around her and disappeared.  
"You lost her," Hajime said, trying to sound sympathetic. It wouldn't matter, Oikawa never remembered this in the morning, but all the same, even that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes would make Hajime cringe.  
"Mmm," Oikawa said non-committally, now leaning against Hajime instead.  
"Let's go home," Hajime said with a heavy sigh. He couldn't even really be mad; the loss against Karasuno was still fresh in their memories and volleyball practice was over and Oikawa was beating himself up about it.  
He took one of the shot glasses on the coffee table on the way out and downed it, ignoring Oikawa's protests when he prevented him from getting his own. God knows he was going to need it. Their warm coats were both hung on the racks by the door, and Hajime shrugged his own on and waited as Oikawa struggled with the arms of his. In the end, Hajime held them open for him.  
The night air was cool on his burning face - the anger was still boiling his blood, he realized, and an alcohol-related flush was spreading in his cheeks.  
Or perhaps it was a blush.  
Oikawa was clinging to him as he tripped along the pavement, his breath hot in Hajime's right ear. Hajime was doing his best to support him, heart racing with guilty pleasure even though he willed it to slow.  
Oikawa was talking to him, sentences slurred and punctuated with Hajime's nickname.  
It was an annoying nickname, but that didn't stop Hajime from envisioning on Oikawa's lips in a different scenario.  
The bus was crowded; it was a Friday night, after all. People cast them disapproving glances, the silence of the bus broken only by the occasional whisper and shuffle of feet. It was a twenty-minute bus ride - that was all Hajime had to worry about, keeping Oikawa steady for that twenty minutes. A stop came and a seat emptied beside them.  
Hajime tried to coax Oikawa into the empty seat. It half worked, but Oikawa pulled Hajime down on top of him and Hajime's protest pulled some more, disapproving glares, in his direction. He sat there silently instead, Oikawa's hands linked loosely around his middle, holding him in place.  
In time, Oikawa's head came to rest on Hajime's shoulders, and though the disapproving glares around them intensified, though it would be easy to pull away now Oikawa was half asleep, Hajime stayed. Shut his eyes as each of Oikawa's exhales warmed the veins in his neck.  
Oikawa's touch was not some unfamiliar, fabled, thing. On long drives to games, he fell asleep on Hajime's shoulder, when he wanted to take Hajime somewhere he grabbed his hand, and he often sat on his lap as well. Mostly Oikawa had the same, easy, relationship with all the third years on the team. Mostly, Hajime was accustomed to it.  
Except when Oikawa's thumbs would skim over Hajime's hand as they walked, or when Oikawa wriggled on his lap when he sat. Then Hajime would be filled with longing - longing for the freedom to feel these things, to be free of the incessant guilt which came with arousal.  
Hajime felt his stomach drop as he realized that beneath him, Oikawa was half-hard. Hajime felt a flush spread over his cheeks with a vengeance as he wondered if Oikawa knew, all along, what was going on downstairs when their positions were reversed.  
He scrambled clumsily out of that train of thought, though he knew it'd haunt him later.  
This, now, was just a side effect of Oikawa's intoxication, of the bus jostling them together at each pothole and bump in the road.  
Hajime should stand, he knew he should but when his muscles tensed to do so, Oikawa's arms tightened around his waist. Not enough to trap him, but enough to trick his prone mind into thinking that Oikawa wanted him there.  
Their stop came too soon and Hajime finally hauled himself up, taking Oikawa with him. One of his stray hands held Hajime's wrist loosely and stayed as they made the walk (stumble) home. Upon standing, Hajime realized that he was buzzed and that his caution was buried somewhere in his stomach, probably under that nagging anticipation as they neared Oikawa's house.  
He twisted his wrist out of Oikawa's grip and reached for his hand instead.  
Oikawa was probably going to fall, he reasoned, with how his feet scuffed the ground half a step behind him.  
They reached his door, and Hajime crouched to grab the spare key from a gap under the wall. When he stood, Oikawa was close, too close, his eyes hooded.  
"Stay with me." He breathed.  
Hajime shook his head, afraid to speak as if he would startle Oikawa out of his drunken state. He'd forgotten, before, exactly what this moment would feel like, but a myriad of sensations were running through him and he'd had each of these thoughts before.  
If only he trusted himself enough to get as drunk as Oikawa, to feel that soft brush of lips without the accompanying tangled mess of guilt.  
If only Hajime was another one of the strangers Oikawa had kissed.  
If only they were sober.  
Even he was drunker than he'd first thought, intoxicated by Oikawa's nearness. Oikawa, just intoxicated in general, snaked an arm around Hajime's shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.  
Hajime let him, felt most of Oikawa's weight now as he leaned more heavily against him. In one hand, Hajime held the door key so tightly it bit into the skin. The other had nothing but his own self-control to stop it from pulling Oikawa closer.  
His self-control being almost non-existent.  
For a moment, a moment which made his blood fizz in his veins, he felt Oikawa's tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth without thinking and he'd never been this close to euphoria before.  
But a few seconds was all he could allow, a few seconds which would get lost amongst Oikawa's blurred memories of the night.  
He just wanted Oikawa to say his name.  
Instead, he untangled himself, ignoring Oikawa's groan of protest and his hands fumbling for Hajime's shirt. With effort, he unclenched his fingers from around the key and fumbled for the door, lips throbbing with pressure, real or imagined he couldn’t tell.  
He got the door unlocked and turned to beckon Oikawa in. He was standing, just standing there, right where Hajime had left him, a flush across his cheeks.  
The flush, of course, was due to alcohol, but it was so pretty; he was so pretty, in the moonlight.  
Hajime cleared his throat, "let's get you to bed." He said. His voice was cracked and husky as if it hadn't been flooded with saliva from kissing just seconds before.  
Oikawa's saliva, some of it.  
That was a gross thought - or at least, it might've been if he was sober (or perhaps if it wasn't Oikawa's saliva).  
He had to sneak Oikawa up to his room, holding almost all his weight as he took the stairs. Finally, he shouldered open Oikawa's door, sweating with exertion. Oikawa fell face-first onto the bed and Hajime rolled him into the recovery position, Oikawa protesting incoherently.  
They'd slept together in that bed since they were children, though it was barely bigger than a single bed. Hajime didn't know when he'd starting wishing for more, didn’t even know when he realized it.  
At some point, after he'd turned thirteen he'd figured that he had no interest in girls, and there had been a brief time when he'd liked the captain of the high school volleyball team.  
Then, a year or so later, it occurred to Hajime he liked Oikawa more than his other friends, and that might have been natural, for they'd been friends for much longer, but after much overthinking Hajime realized that no, he liked Oikawa differently than his other friends.  
He'd assumed it would go away, that he didn't really love Oikawa romantically, but by then everything was so tangled up that he doubted he'd ever separate the strands.  
It wasn't suffering, exactly, as the years passed; he didn't even hate Oikawa's relationships. Often, he was satisfied with the friendship they had, didn't even think about having more all that frequently.  
And then things like this happened, and it all hit him afresh, and it felt like a hole had opened in his diaphragm, sending his heart and lungs plummeting into his stomach and his chest achingly empty.  
He felt guilty now he was sobering up. Rin had been right not to sleep with him, not when he was like this.  
Hajime had to be the responsible one but it was so inconceivably hard sometimes.  
He watched for a long moment as Oikawa settled into sleep, checking his breathing was steady. It would be stupid to leave him when he'd been so intoxicated, so Hajime stayed until the very early morning, dozing with half an eye on Oikawa.  
Finally, satisfied, he shrugged his coat back on, placed a glass of water on Oikawa's bedside table, and made his way downstairs.  
The walk home from Oikawa's was short and perfectly familiar; Hajime slowed his steps as he did it, trying to both burn the memory of their kiss, actions that felt reckless as he sobered, into and from his mind forever.  
"I'm in love with my best friend," he said aloud into the night, just to see how it sounded.  
"I'm in love with Oikawa Tooru."  
The night was unfeeling and Hajime felt he shouldn’t have said it aloud. If it hadn't been real through years of longing and stolen glances and affectionate insults then it was now.  
The words settled into his stomach, a hard knot that made him sick inside.  
-  
Monday came and they caught the bus together, standing at the back of the crowded aisle. Hajime was holding the bar overhead and Oikawa was holding jokingly onto his elbow. Unlike a few nights ago, he was uncannily steady on his feet now, as graceful as ever.  
"What happened to Rin?" He asked into Hajime's ear.  
"Who?" He asked blankly.  
"That girl I've been seeing - ah-" Oikawa patted his pockets for his phone before swearing quietly. "Damn it, I thought it'd be in my blazer pocket, I have pictures of her."  
"You lost your phone?" Hajime asked incredulously.  
Oikawa shrugged. He didn't use his phone a huge amount anyway, apart from for taking selfies, "it might be in lost property," he reasoned.  
"You didn't have it at the party."  
"Ah," Oikawa said, realizing. "I'm sure it'll turn up." He said finally, with a shrug, "so what did happen to Rin? I remember kissing her, but you took me home." He squinted at Hajime, who felt fear swirling in his stomach.  
"She said you were too drunk." He croaked. Oikawa had never so much as alluded to kissing Hajime, but every time he mentioned a party Hajime felt like the memory must be there, just beneath the surface.  
"Man," Oikawa groaned, "you think she'd still go out with me?"  
"Just find another fangirl," Hajime said caustically. There was the flash of hurt in Oikawa's eyes he'd tried so hard to avoid the night before. Hajime didn't know why it appeared now when he'd said that same thing many times before, but before long it was gone without a trace, as far as he could see, and they met up with Hanamaki and Matsukawa at school.  
At the end of the day, as they walked to the bus stop (no volleyball practice to delay them), Rin appeared at the school entrance. Oikawa just as swiftly disappeared from Hajime's side.  
"Tell her I'm busy," he hissed and ducked out of sight.  
Hajime went to tell him that it was arrogant to assume she was here to see him, but when she spotted Hajime alone, she made a beeline to him.  
"You seen Oikawa?" She asked.  
"No." Hajime said, not bothering to offer an excuse, "want me to pass on a message?" He added reluctantly.  
The girl sighed in apparent relief, "he left his phone, actually." She said, tossing her hair over one shoulder and rummaging in her bag, "you give it to him, if you want."  
"You don't want to see him?" Hajime asked.  
She snorted, "God no."  
"That bad, huh?" Hajime asked. He didn't take the phone she now held out to him, though the dark green case was definitely Oikawa's.  
"You're Iwaizumi Hajime, right?" She said.  
Hajime nodded assent.  
"I saw you walking him home. You wanna know why I left?"  
He wasn't sure, but he nodded anyway.  
"He moaned your name." She said, throwing him the phone. Hajime caught it reflectively, his jaw falling slack.  
"I - what?"  
Rin shrugged, "not that that sort of thing offends me, it was only a casual few times - but I figured this was doing more harm than good for the two of you."  
Hajime felt his shoulders curl in protectively, fingers clenching on the phone case.  
"I don’t know what you mean." He said, but it was a sorry attempt at evasion. The girl's dark eyes were knowing, and her demur might have been non-threatening, except the knowledge in itself was dangerous.  
He didn't know what to make of what she said about Oikawa if it were even true, but he knew for sure that this was a dig at him, at the fact he liked Oikawa more than platonically.  
"I'm hardly going to say anything," she said, gaze softening slightly. Then she turned and headed towards the car park. Hajime caught sight of someone else waiting for her by one of the cars.  
"Was that Tendo Satori driving her?" Oikawa asked, his voice unsettlingly close to Hajime's ear.  
Hajime jumped, and then thrust Oikawa's phone at him. His mind was spinning wildly.  
"She was the one driving." He said, mouth on autopilot. He can't have heard any of the conversations - Rin would have seen him if he'd been that close - but Hajime felt as though he'd been ripped open, innards exposed to the world.  
"Was she looking for me?" Oikawa asked, checking his phone. It was low battery.  
"Unless she stole your phone ahead of time as an excuse to get here, no. She seemed to be avoiding you, actually." Hajime said.  
"Huh, I must have been pretty drunk," Oikawa said, still watching the car park.  
"Yeah," Hajime said and clamped his mouth shut. For the rest of the week, he felt like the words would tumble from his mouth, asking Oikawa about Rin's story (as if it would do any good), telling him that he wanted to kiss him again.  
Sometimes Hajime fantasized about actually kissing him, and it was disturbing how easily he reached out to Oikawa sometimes as if to follow through on the thoughts which sprung to mind whenever he focused for too long on Oikawa's lips.  
It was a miracle, truly, that nobody knew anything when it was so constantly on Hajime's mind. He felt that it must've slipped out at some point, and the world was just playing at normalcy.  
That feeling faded over time, but it seemed he'd reached a new threshold of this love, and he couldn't step backward.  
-  
The next party was some weeks after the first, this one hosted by a third-year from Aobajohsai, Hajime almost didn't go. Matsukawa and Hanamaki would be there, Oikawa didn't even need Hajime, and yet Friday night he found himself there all the same.  
He didn't drink this time around, let himself talk to the girl that approached him with a dull cordiality, and didn't watch Oikawa at all.  
(If he had he might have noticed Oikawa holding the same glass all night).  
It was almost three in the morning when Oikawa approached him to take him home. It was a short walk and Hajime didn't wonder once why Oikawa didn't ask Hanamaki instead. Oikawa was quiet, didn't hang onto Hajime as much as he usually did. Hajime wasn't sure if he missed it or not.  
They stood together outside Oikawa's house for a long moment before Hajime thought to duck down and grab the keys. Oikawa's silence was beginning to unnerve him.  
"Are you alright to go upstairs?" Hajime asked as he unlocked the door.  
"Yeah."  
Hajime felt disappointment and he almost reached out to - what, he wasn't sure. He wanted to be closer to Oikawa, for those precious few seconds, he wanted to be warmed by Oikawa's embrace.  
He started walking away instead, slowly, as though waiting for fate to intervene.  
Oikawa's hand closed around his wrist and Hajime turned too quickly, too expectantly, and then, with a coordination a drunk person shouldn't be able to manage, Oikawa pulled them together and crushed his lips against Hajime's.  
Hajime felt himself slipping as Oikawa's tongue flicked out tentatively, so tentatively, to brush his lower lip. Hajime opened his mouth and for a moment felt Oikawa's teeth a little too keenly on his skin, but it was like a set in volleyball, and after a moment of fumbling they found a rhythm.  
Hajime needed to pull away. He wasn't tipsy this time, it was all of his own volition, and yet he'd felt the pressure, the want, building in him for so long that suddenly what he needed and what he wanted were two vastly different things.  
He wanted to kiss Oikawa forever.  
"Hajime," Oikawa moaned, the barest breath against his mouth as if he hadn't even meant for it to escape.  
Hajime froze. He'd thought he wanted this, but suddenly the moonlight was harsh and real. Slowly, he pulled his head away.  
Oikawa was looking at him, his eyes clear, mouth swollen and panting.  
"Tooru." Hajime rasped.  
The name seemed to do something to Oikawa, to cause his lungs to collapse in on themselves and his fingers to grip Hajime's waist so tightly that his skin begun to throb.  
Oikawa did not smell like alcohol, he realized. He smelt as he usually did, deodorant and hair product and himself.  
"You're-" Hajime began. He couldn't finish, swallowed heavily.  
"I thought I was dreaming." Oikawa rushed out, "all this time - and I hoped, as well, but last time I dreamt you kissed me back and when I woke up I could taste you on my lips, I could have sworn…"  
Hajime might've walked away then - he was too hot, his hands were shaking, he was terrified of Oikawa's next words - but he owed it to him to listen.  
"I wished she was you," Oikawa whispered, so quietly that Hajime could barely hear him. For a long moment, he wondered if perhaps he hadn't even heard right.  
Hajime hadn't replied in too long, he could feel Oikawa's fingers flex on his waist.  
"I wished I was her." He said finally, as Oikawa shifted to move inside, shoulders hunched.  
"How long?" Oikawa asked.  
"How long what?"  
"How long have you wanted to kiss me?"  
"I never said I did," Hajime replied, then caught that hurt in Oikawa's eyes again, and realized it was different from the pain which came from failure, from losing the match to nationals, and he was the common factor.  
"Forever." He added quickly and felt Oikawa relax. Automatically, he pulled Oikawa to him, in some semblance of a hug, except their foreheads were pressed together and their breath mingled and each point they came in contact fizzed. There was no alcohol now to account for the flush on Oikawa's face.  
"You?" Hajime asked. A small measure of fear rose in him again, fear for the answer, for all the assumptions he'd just made.  
Oikawa huffed a laugh, "that first time you got drunk, and Rita was all over you."  
More silence, more processing.  
"It's late," Hajime said finally.  
"Come in," Oikawa offered.  
"And sleep on the floor again?" Hajime said, as though he wouldn’t.  
He wanted to talk with Oikawa forever, wanted to know the little details, know if it was just him who'd been feeling this for so long, who'd savored the moments they were alone.  
"Bed still fits both of us."  
"We were twelve, last time," Hajime said with a small laugh.  
"Yeah and we weren't cuddling."  
"You had your stuffed bunny instead." Hajime pointed out.  
Oikawa huffed a laugh and grabbed Hajime's hand to lead him upstairs.  
Even this was different, Oikawa interlaced his fingers with Hajime's and he didn't let go as he toed off his shoes and they climbed into bed.  
Hajime yawned and pressed his back against the wall to make room. Oikawa settled against him, and though his face was turned away there was an intimacy about the moment Hajime had never felt before, as though somehow, Oikawa's body pressed to him, the pulse which throbbed in the wrist Hajime held loosely, was akin to staring into his eyes.  
"Why'd you leave going home so dammed late?" Hajime asked.  
"I was working up the nerve to ask you home," Oikawa admitted.  
Hajime stroked his thumb along Oikawa's inner wrist, "I was only there for you." He replied.  
So this was honesty - there would be a lot of that, this night. Questions to ask, misunderstandings to unpick.  
And Hajime quickly discovered that kissing Oikawa while he was sober was all he could have dreamed, and he did not, in fact, have to trade their friendship for it.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if ya'll can tell but I've written at least three reports for school in the past two weeks and I've now forgotten how not to write like a pretentious student (:
> 
> (This is part of a self-indulgent AU that I come back to every once and a while, hence the OC's, though I did try find female characters actually in Haikyuu to be in this fic but Kiyoko definitly didn't work in this scenario)


End file.
